


Heels

by Yunan



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Model!AU, There's so many ship tags bc I'm going ham, coffee shop AU, dont ask me what's legit and what's belial being horny, i don't know the difference atm LOL
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-05-23 19:17:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14940287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yunan/pseuds/Yunan
Summary: There were two kinds of people in the fashion world, humble barista Sandalphon concluded.There were those like Lucifer who had the power to captivate with a single look, a flick of his wrist.Then there were those like this shitty photographer who just had a boner.





	1. Chapter 1

Sandalphon would never forget the second words Lucifer spoke to him. Second, because the first were describing his drink order which, while memorable, was painfully boring.

He'd rung up the price of one medium black coffee, nothing added, and had the tip of a marker pressed to a cup when he looked up to ask for a name. Instead he got,

"Have you ever worn a pair of heels?"

The clearest, most sincere blue eyes stared at him from over the register, and Sandalphon stood frozen. This was the part where he was supposed to write whatever the customer wanted him to shout out to the entirety of Skybucks—a name usually, but customer creativity proved boundless. _The Big Bad Shadow_ had been a memorable one.

But this, inquiries of his shoe experience, was a first.

"...is that your name?" he tried, aiming for witty and amused but approaching bored and tired territory instead. It'd been a long afternoon and as quaint as coffee shops looked, working at them was a special level of hell. Most people, he figured, wouldn't laugh at a joke told like this.

Blondie didn't exactly lose his shit, but he did chuckle, which was more than Sandalphon expected. And his eyes glittered with amusement when he spoke, which was way more than Sandalphon expected.

"No, I just think that you're someone who would look good in the perfect pair of heels. My name is Luci."

Right. That was something he heard all the time, from customers who couldn't even see his feet. "...uh huh," he got out after an awkward stretch of silence. With nothing else clever enough to say out loud, Sandalphon busied himself scribbling "Lucy" onto a cup.

"Could I ask for your name?" came a gentle, probing voice. One that had Sandalphon looking back up just to convey with his stare alone how stupid he thought that question was.

"I'm wearing a name tag." He had just enough time to glimpse Lucy's face as the revelation hit him before he turned on his heel to brew the most boring coffee on the menu.

His break just happened to come up right after he was done, and Sandalphon couldn't decide if what he felt lounging in the back room was disappointment. He didn't get deliver Blondie's coffee.

If that had been the end of it, Sandalphon probably wouldn't have lingered on the feeling too much. It figured then that their encounters didn't stop there.

The second run-in occurred later that week. There was no mention of heels, and Sandalphon was too busy silently marveling over Lucy's upgrade to a repeat customer to remember how they last parted.

Smiling in a way that was just a bit sharp, that curled at the edge of his lips too much to be merely soft and sweet, Lucy said, "Thank you, Sandalphon," after receiving his order. The barista recalled his childish stunt too late, and fumbled with a, "Sure." He swore Lucy laughed at him on his way out.

The shoes didn't reappear until Lucy's fifth visit a couple weeks later. It was towards the end of Sandalphon's shift, around the time he'd usually keep his eyes glued to the clock so he could bolt the second his shift finished. Today though, he had bigger concerns and they all had to do with a certain customer that, truthfully, was only sitting and minding his business. Except he wasn't really, not with the way he glowed. Sandalphon would cringe at his own wording if it wasn't so obvious that everyone else felt it too.

Lucy turned heads just existing, and every eye in the shop wandered his way at least once. Sandalphon wasn't an exception, but instead of awestruck he liked to think his stares were more confused and weirded out. They didn't last long either because when Lucy looked back at him, he waved, and that caused everyone's attention to zero in on Sandalphon instead. Glaring shooed them off, but there was only so much unwanted attention he could take in a shift.

The next time he checked the clock, Sandalphon had to resist cursing. His shift had ended five minutes ago.

He just had to make it out the front door to be free from today, sporting the looks of an average Skybucks employee that no one would recognize out of uniform. Usually it was a quick and painless process. Lucy made sure that didn't happen by calling out as he walked by.

"Sandalphon!"

He couldn't pretend he hadn't heard, no matter how tempting it was. Lucy was already approaching him.

His hands suddenly seized by the sun incarnate, Sandalphon didn't have time to bawk and ask what the fuck was up before Lucy beat him by asking, "What's your shoe size?"

If only because he didn't want this conversation dragging on longer, Sandalphon rattled it off while casting glances at everyone around them. Most stared back, but some were engaged in furious whispers.

Someone asked what was going on.

_I wish I fucking knew._

Lucy apparently felt none of the awkward tension in the air and in the next moment lightly released Sandalphon, beaming at him. "Excellent. I'll see you next week."

His words were almost cut out by the door swinging shut behind Sandalphon. Almost.

  
The entirety of next week Sandalphon was on edge. Not out of dread or worry, but... he didn't want to say he was anticipating what Lucy was going to bring. Sandalphon could end up hating it, since if all the signs were right Lucy was going to come in with a pair of shoes and Sandalphon wasn't interested in making a fashion statement that'd be hidden behind a counter. But no one had ever given him special treatment before.

The bar was low when an eccentric customer interested in his feet counted as "special treatment." Framed like that though, Sandalphon could allow himself a little excitement. Excited curiosity, maybe.

Enough that when his last shift of the week ended, with no sign of Lucy, Sandalphon felt a tiny bit disappointed, and a larger bit pissed for feeling a tiny bit disappointed. What was he expecting? Someone like Lucy, popular and special, probably thought it was fun to mess with the grumpy barista for a bit before forgetting that barista's very existence at the drop of a hat.

What was Sandalphon ever going to do with special attention anyways? He'd still be a barista, still grimace at his bills every month, and then occasionally wonder if he had a purpose in this world besides serving coffee to the ungrateful public.

He swore the only thing that made Skybucks worth it was the employee discount he qualified for when he needed a caffeine boost. Gran should be better by now, even if last week he'd sounded like death asking Sandalphon to cover for him. That meant on top of paying less, Sandalphon wouldn't even need to say his order; Gran could just make it for him the moment he saw his face.

As expected, a familiar brunet perked up behind the counter at Sandalphon's entrance. They exchanged greetings as usual, but instead of confirming if Sandalphon's order was the same as always, Gran craned his neck and looked a little past Sandalphon.

"It's a good thing you stopped by you know! Someone came in looking for you earlier. He's sitting over there still; you know him?" Gran pointed, and before Sandalphon even turned to look he almost knew who to expect. If he was wrong, he'd kick himself.

But there Lucy was, scrolling through his phone before looking up just in time to meet Sandalphon's stare. The first thing Sandalphon thought was how weird the smile on Lucy's face was, how it brightened the space around him when all he'd done was see Sandalphon. The second thing was how Sandalphon's mouth twitched with a reflex to smile back.

Obviously that meant he had to frown harder.

"The usual is fine, let me know when it's done," he said briefly to Gran, then stalked towards his (late) guest.

"I thought you worked today as well," Lucy said in lieu of a greeting. "If I knew you didn't, I would have come earlier."

"I was covering for someone last week," Sandalphon replied, "but it's not a big deal. We didn't have an appointment or anything." Maybe he'd been a little pressed at the time, but Lucy didn't need to know that. It made it sound like Sandalphon cared.

"I said I would visit this week, but I ended up being much busier than I anticipated," Lucy continued explaining nonetheless. "I kept putting off my plans because I thought I had time, but it seems that was an oversight on my part. I apologize for making you wait."

It was the apology Sandalphon wanted but wasn't supposed to get. No one was that nice that they'd sincerely apologize for something that wasn't all that bad or intentional. Frankly, people like Lucy were only supposed to exist in books.

"I said it's fine. I have things to do, so it'd be better if we moved on to why you're here." Sandalphon had a grand total of zero items on his agenda for today, but he wanted this thread of conversation to end.

Lucy didn't even seem fazed by his curt response. He only agreed and then reached down to place a box on the table before withdrawing a pair of shoes from it. Heels. The outside was made of some velvet-looking material, colored dark brown, and contrary to Sandalphon's assumption, they were more like boots than the kind he saw on super models.

"...are those for me?" he ventured, unsure whether he should reach for them or not. His fingers twitched by his side.

"Of course. I asked you for your shoe size last week didn't I? These were specially made, but since I wasn't able to see your feet clearly the fit might be imperfect. Do try them on; I can have changes made as needed."

Sandalphon took that as his go-ahead to take the shoes and inspect them personally. He wouldn't consider himself fashion savvy, but these were clearly fancy and undoubtedly expensive. They had the look of money.

They didn't belong on his feet.

A few more seconds of silence passed, and it was the look of anticipation on Lucy's face that startled Sandalphon. "Wait, you want me to put them on right now? Here?"

Lucy blinked. "Of course. I want to see you wear them."

A refusal died in his throat. Pretty people had an unfair advantage over everyone else. They could pressure others with a single look, and land the final blow by opening their mouths. Foul play.

Pulling out a chair and kicking his own shoes off, Sandalphon felt a little embarrassed he had to check whether the boots had some kind of zipper or not. It showed how much he didn't know about shoes or the latest trends. There was no such zipper though, which meant he really did just pull it on.

Maybe if he were a model he'd be able to tell if it was a little too wide or too long or whatever, but because he wasn't Sandalphon's only standard for a shoe fitting was if he could put it on and walk. Step one was a success, step two he was about to find out. He stood up and went in a circle, the clack of the heels against the floor triggering a sense of self-consciousness he didn't know he had, and concluded he'd sit back down and take these off as soon as possible.

Then Lucy spoke up.

"I was right, you look good in heels."

The fondness in the other's eyes was enough for Sandalphon's collar to feel unnaturally warm, and he couldn't think of a better time for Gran to call out his order. The next minute consisted of Sandalphon clacking to the register, then clacking right out the door without a single thank you or even good-bye.

He only realized when he moved to take his shoes off at the entrance of his apartment that he'd basically stolen these boots and left behind his actual shoes at the shop.

  
It was some reverse Cinderella shit, turning up at the address Lucy provided Gran with to retrieve his lost shoes. Sandalphon went to Skybucks the next day only to be passed a note that read, [I have your shoes, come visit me at xxx] with no date or time specified. The many ways this could go utterly wrong flashed through his head, so the sooner he got it over with the sooner his pain could come and go.

Lucy had to have written down the wrong address. This was some bigwig building that people in suits came and went from. Sandalphon didn't fit in here at all.

Case in point: how, after attempting to explain his situation, he ended up in the hands of security under suspicion of theft that he couldn't completely deny.

He heard the words "delinquent punk" used to describe him to an unknown figure at the other end of a receiver, and couldn't help scoffing. "I'm a barista delinquent punk. The only things I beat up now are coffee beans."

Sandalphon had been in his fair share of fights, but the better a fighter you were the better you knew when you were outmatched. These security guards could grind his face into chalk dust. So a brief glance from one of them had Sandalphon glaring back, but otherwise silent. That was apparently good enough to warrant a pass on face pummeling.

The note Lucy had written him crinkled in his pocket. Uselessly. Sandalphon didn't even bother brandishing it as proof because there was no name or time or any indication Sandalphon hadn't just scribbled it himself despite the fact his penmanship wasn't that neat.

"Sandalphon?"

His head snapped up at his name, and that was definitely Lucy striding towards him. Except he wasn't wearing average clothes. That was an outfit whose wrinkles were probably steam pressed out, hand cut to precision, and wore its price tag in every stitch. Lucy might as well have walked out of a photoshoot, and if this building was any hint, he just might have.

Lucy chatted with the guards, and after a short protest they nodded and walked off. Sandalphon supposed it was a plus that he wouldn't be arrested today.

"I didn't expect you to come so early, my apologies. If you'd contacted me in advance I could have notified the front desk."

Lucy probably meant well, but Sandalphon wondered in that moment how airheaded this guy really was. "How was I supposed to do that? It's not like I have your number—"

"I was going to give it to you!" Lucy jumped on the opportunity so quickly Sandalphon could only stare as the note was taken from his hand. With a pen produced out of nowhere Lucy wrote something else then handed it back with a smile. "Here, this is my personal cell phone."

"Uh... thanks..." Never mind he didn't actually need it considering he was here already. He fumbled his follow-up next. "—here, the shoes!" Sandalphon grabbed the bag he'd put the heeled boots in and held them out.

Lucy didn't take them.

"What are these for?" he asked with too much sincerity to be joking. Sandalphon blinked.

"I'm giving back your shoes. And if you return mine too, that's... that's why I'm here." It felt an awful lot like for all the things Lucy had, common sense wasn't one of them.

"Those aren't mine, they're yours." Lucy grasped the hands holding the bag and pushed them back towards Sandalphon's chest. "I gave them to you as a gift. Your old shoes are in my dressing room, follow me."

Lucy didn't ask about his schedule, or if he was in a rush, and for that reason Sandalphon frowned the whole way there. Because he wasn't concerned about either of those issues, he went along with it anyways.

"Lucifer! There you are. We have to leave soon, the crew is already en route." A staffer was coming towards them, and though they eyed Sandalphon suspiciously, time was evidently a more pressing concern as they continued to go on about the urgency of Lucy's—Lucifer? It kind of sounded familiar...—departure.

Lucy nodded, and looked back at Sandalphon before nodding again to himself. "I'll be right there. About my bags, they were in the corner of my dressing room..."

The staffer waved a hand. "All packed up, we're just missing you. Come on, we're already late."

Lucy wrinkled his nose at that, and the look he cast Sandalphon was apologetic. "Your shoes were amongst those belongings, but if you wouldn't mind coming along to a photoshoot, I can return them right away.”

The stupid answer would be to agree to go along on a fancy trip who knew where just for a pair of shoes.

Sandalphon once, at the very beginning of his coffee making hobby, tried to use unroasted coffee beans for brewing.

“Uh, sure, whatever’s easier.”

Lucy grinned and pulled him along. “It'll be my first time having a guest.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandalphon: luci don't do it  
> Luci: does it  
> Sandalphon: oh my god

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So!!!! This was supposed to be like a 2-3 chapter deal that got out my model AU feelios and featured a cameo horny belial photographer before I'd call it a day but then I came up with the barest hint of a plot so who knows anymore
> 
> I'm a mess of a writer but witH SLIGHTLY MORE DIRECTION I might be able to update faster than 2 months LOL ilu all who interact w this fic it rly makes me happy to know ppl read and enjoy anything I put out!!!
> 
> PS I know my summary hasn't even made it into the fic but it's coming I promise we're getting there
> 
> I don't know what proofreading is im sorry pls it took everything I had 2 get this out thanks for coming to my ted talk

"Do you think modeling is nothing but looking pretty?"

Sandalphon had a scathing retort on his tongue, the twitch of his brow and the scowl on his lips all gearing up to unleash it. If he could just ungrit his teeth for two seconds, he could mouth off to the feathery haired princess who lorded over him.

Then his heel snagged on a stray crack and for the fifth time in the past hour, he stumbled face first to the ground.

"I don't think I need to tell you how the clothes you're wearing are worth more than you'll ever see in your life," the other model said from above, heels clicking against the floor. The sound was infuriatingly steady, demonstrating how one should walk in heels. How Sandalphon, for the past hour, couldn't.

"Then why don't you shut up and not say anything at all?" he spat.

"Because I can't understand how you're still like this after so long. You're holding up the shoot." And then as a soft aside that she knew he could hear, "What was Lucifer thinking with you?"

Sandalphon wished he knew. Back when Lucifer first hauled him to a photoshoot for his lost shoes, Sandalphon had been in awe of everything. It was organized chaos of stylists and cameramen and models all working on separate deadlines, but somehow never colliding. As an outsider, he'd feared whether one step would intrude on the hectic path of someone else, and he imagined he followed Lucifer in the fashion of a drunken bumblebee.

He'd taken everything in as both his first and last glimpse behind the scenes of the fashion industry, committing the most important parts to memory. Fashion had never been a particular interest of his, but this was a once-in-a-lifetime (not to mention shouldn't be happening to him) chance.

He handed Lucifer a water bottle that another staffer had passed to him when the shoot was finished, and the model took it gratefully.

"The shoot was more lively because of you," Lucifer said eventually, half the water gone. Sandalphon's brow scrunched up. All he remembered was somewhat aimlessly poking his nose into various parts of the shoot, and tripping over equipment a handful of times.

"Is it because of the light I knocked over? I was more careful after that." As in, he found a stool to sit on and refused to move until it was time to leave. The light hadn't been damaged, but that didn't mean something else wouldn't be. The price of the mistake intimidated him more than anything.

Lucifer only laughed, then shook his head. "No, not at all." Sandalphon looked for an answer in the other's stare, but all he saw was a weird blend of reverence and relief. "Just having you around made the atmosphere more bearable. You've never been to one of these, have you?"

"Obviously. If I knew shit about fashion I'd have seen through your corny nickname immediately." It had been too obvious, looking back. Lucy's "dressing down" was still leagues above anyone in a local Skybucks, and his innate charisma wasn't normal for a reason. His career was built on captivating others through a camera; it stood to reason that the real thing was even more stunning. Lucy had always been a step above everyone else.

"You even spelled it wrong," Lucifer recalled, chuckling as Sandalphon huffed. "That's how I knew you didn't recognize me at all."

"Was it that funny?" he grumbled as he snatched a nearby face cloth and held it out briskly. A staff member had called him out for sitting around doing nothing, so he was instructed to provide the small comforts for Lucifer. Water, check. Facecloth, check. He wondered when the complimentary massage factored in.

Lucifer took it and dabbed at his face. "No, I was happy. It felt like a personal nickname."

"Yeah well, I know better now," Sandalphon mumbled. That caused Lucifer to blink at him.

"You aren't going to call me that anymore?"

"Of course not. Do I look like someone who can call a world famous model familiarly?" It was embarrassing just thinking back on.

He convinced himself it wasn't disappointment he heard in Lucifer's soft, "Oh, I see."

That didn't explain why Sandalphon was still walking in heels though. Not his custom-made boots, which hadn't seen the light of day since he received them, but actual heels. The kind models wore that others openly gawked at.

It turned out, there was a reason normal people didn't wear these. The population would be reduced to stumbling dominos if too many people had shoes this high. Plainly, everyone couldn't reach model level.

Sandalphon himself hadn't even reached it, nor did he exactly plan to. It hadn't been his plan to return to a photoshoot that coincidentally landed on his day off, but like so many other things, his plans couldn't resist being pulled into the orbit of Lucifer's.

First it was attend another photoshoot "if you're available," then it was a shortage of staff, and now it was the shortage of an entire model.

Sandalphon was getting paid, it was worth it, but if anything was making him earn his money it was the soreness of his feet from these fucking heels.

"Mika! How is he doing? Ready to go yet?" The voice of a production staffer carried over the buzz of on site chatter.

Michael stared down at Sandalphon with a raised brow. "Are you ready yet?"

If his inability to refuse Lucifer weren't enough, the spite Sandalphon felt for a seasoned model who actually knew what the fuck she was doing drove him to his feet.

"I don't think it fucking matters if I am." He threw her words back at her. "We're holding up the shoot."

* * *

Skybucks found Sandalphon ungracefully collapsing on a table and groaning the next day. His head didn't lift from the table even when a chair scraped against the floor across from him.

"So it either went really bad or—" Gran cut himself off and Sandalphon could visualize the sincere and stupidly pinched way his face got when he was concerned. "Um, did it go that badly?"

His co-worker only knew the bare minimum, delivered over the phone with a curt "Cover for me I have to fill in for a model" followed by Sandalphon hanging up. The kid was too much of a pushover to say no, and too polite to press for details. In other words, way too easy. Sandalphon had a monthly quota of how often he took advantage of that.

"Fuck heels," he muttered into the crook of his arm.

"Oh? But didn't Lucifer himself say you looked good in them?"

Apparently he let that little detail slip in during his random assaults of personal issues he sometimes unleashed on Gran. Sandalphon just grumbled some more. "Fuck walking in heels," he amended.

"Ah, they made you do that?" Gran sipped his drink with an obnoxious slurping sound that grated on Sandalphon's ears. Normally he'd snap at Gran to cut that shit out, but Sandalphon was feeling extra irritable.

He straight up smacked the cup away, sending it skittering across the table. Miraculously it didn't spill nor splatter on the floor, but Gran's face looked like it was him who'd be slapped instead of his drink.

A stab of something like guilt made Sandalphon wince inside. Damage control was never his thing. "I got talked down to and fell on my face more times than I could count," he confessed. Jerking his head to the side, he refused to make eye contact as he held out some cash he had on him. "Put this in the register and make yourself one of those syrupy death traps."

Gran was weird about making expensive items for himself without compensation, so this was basically treating him. An apology veiled under pride and cash that only an idiot like Gran would take to heart.

Sandalphon didn't bother to call him out on it though; he'd get a lecture in turn about how Gran saw through his pretenses and appreciated his heartfelt apology and that just wasn't it. Sandalphon wasn't that soft, and fuck Gran for thinking so.

All the evidence he needed was on his coworker's face though, a thousand watts and all teeth. "My break ends in ten minutes so I'll have to make it quick, but is there anything else you want to tell me before I go?"

No, Sandalphon's mind supplied. "Yeah," he said.

Gran perked up.

"Your name tag's upside down."

In his hurry to fix it, Gran missed Sandalphon shuffling out the door.

* * *

Sandalphon's life consisted of very little, simple routines. He had a favorite kind of cereal he didn't stray from in the morning, a bland job that supported him well enough, and a solid base of three outfits he cycled through regularly. Oftentimes he'd complain about the monotony of his life, his lack of direction, but without actively seeking his supposed divine purpose there was no one to blame but himself. Opportunities didn't fall from the sky, so to speak.

It was infinitely more terrifying when they waltzed through the door, he found.

Suddenness was the biggest problem, he concluded weeks after his first shoot with Lucifer. The opportunity that wasn't supposed to happen happened, and it came attached to one person in the timeframe of less than a month. Modeling wasn't a thing Sandalphon could do, or really wanted to honestly, but apparently saying no to blue eyes framed by soft blond hair was even more impossible.

It was insane how familiar he became with the fashion scene because of this one weakness.

The one spread he filled in for didn't skyrocket Sandalphon to fame; he'd been an extra that simply complemented the main model, Michael. His reputation was to the level of staffers not eyeing him suspiciously when he walked around, and a practiced ease navigating hectic sessions.

Nowhere near the level of:

"Sandalphon, come with me to Paris."

Sandalphon dropped his marker.

"Huh?"

Lucifer smiled, and he tipped down his sunglasses.

"The usual. It's alright to put down 'Lucy' like you used to."

He'd lost track of how many times he'd clarified that he couldn't, if only for his own pride. Lucifer didn't mean it maliciously, Sandalphon knew, but he was airheaded in a way that drove him to drag a nobody barista into his glamorous life without a second thought.

The cup bore "Lucifer" like it always did, and when Sandalphon passed off his drink, Lucifer thanked him before leaving the parting words, "I'll be back in three days; I hope you'll consider Paris then."

* * *

"I've considered it."

Three days later, and Sandalphon took his break at a table with Lucifer sitting pristinely across from him.

"Have you?" There was polite curiosity and hopeful anticipation mixed in the model's tone.

"I've considered, and it took me two seconds to reach a conclusion." Sandalphon leaned on the table, and began ticking off on his fingers. "Paris sounds nice, I searched up pictures and it almost looks fake. It's that pretty." One finger. "That's all."

Lucifer patiently waited for a continuation that Sandalphon didn't have.

"...so you'd like to go?" he asked, missing the point.

Sandalphon sighed, and wondered how this man made it so far in life. Or maybe this was his privilege speaking, sitting atop the modeling world.

"Yes, I'd like to go just like I'd enjoy the life of a millionaire if it was offered to me. But neither that nor this is realistic. I have shifts to work, a job, a life—" and here Sandalphon let loose his frustrations with a dramatic hand wave, "You didn't tell me anything besides Paris! Who would say yes to an offer out of the blue?"

Lucifer looked genuinely stunned. "I can take care of that. I'll make up for the lost salary, and any other expenses will already be handled."

He really thought it was that easy. Admittedly it did handle the brunt of the issue, finances, but there was more.

"What about time and date? How am I supposed to consider a trip when I don't even know how long it'll last or when I'm leaving?"

"In four days, and then a week in Paris before we return."

"I don't drive."

"I can pick you up."

"I don't know French."

"I'll translate the important parts for you."

"You won't have time."

"There will be translators as well."

"My boss will never agree to this."

"Should I talk to him as well?"

"No, I will, never mind."

Sandalphon wanted to tear out his hair. It just wasn't this easy to manipulate the world all in favor of letting him take a joy trip to Paris. He hated the monotony of his daily life, how predictably aimless it always was, but he wasn't comfortable with the rapid shift it was taking either.

"...I realize my request was sudden, and I hadn't considered you wouldn't want to go."

The unexpected admission halted Sandalphon. Lucifer's normally serene expression darkened to something between regret and disappointment.

"I don't want to trouble you, so if you'd rather not I won't pressure you further."

Sandalphon's irritation ebbed, and more than that he found an inexplicable urge to walk Lucifer through their complications rather than gloss over it with anger like he usually did. If anyone else was sitting across from him, he thought he might grouse that his break was over and stormed off to the back room for the remainder of his off time.

"You trouble me more than you know," he began, and frowned at the way Lucifer seemed to stiffen. "But I still go along with you, so it's not anything new. This time too, I'll go with you."

"You will?" Lucifer's disbelief told Sandalphon more than he needed to know. At least this high class model had the capacity to reflect. He could work with that.

"Yes. Just remember I'm not anyone special; you have to lower your standards to a commoner's before you start suggesting trips out of nowhere."

Lucifer smiled, and he laughed like he'd heard an inside joke Sandalphon wasn't privy to.

"But that's exactly what makes you special, Sandalphon."

And before he had a chance to ask what the hell Lucifer was on, the other kindly informed him that his break was up and that he'd message the barista later tonight with the details of the trip. Sandalphon could send his official response after reviewing it all and clearing the time with his boss.

* * *

The plane ride fucking sucked, for all the wrong reasons.

The day before departure, Sandalphon's throat itched and he sneezed a few times, but those were all symptoms he was used to brushing off without a thought. It wasn't until he was stuck in a cramped space—which admittedly wasn't all that cramped because it was first class—that everything got worse before it got better. The redness of his nose and the nasally quality his voice took on made it impossible to pass himself off as healthy, and Lucifer stupidly insisted on tending to him himself.

Sandalphon both loved and hated the attention. And he especially hated how the cliche question of if he had a fever was actually legitimate but still false, because it went down the longer Lucifer spent away from him.

He warned the other that he'd catch his cold too and to just leave him alone, but of course Lucifer didn't listen.

Which was how after the plane ride from hell, hell followed him through the gate in the form of a bedridden Lucifer and a handful of people knowing it was his fault. It'd been a few days into their Paris trip, which consisted of luxurious hotels, on the scene shoots, and a lot of feeling out of place for Sandalphon.

As much as Lucifer sounded excited about having him here, Sandalphon felt from day one that there wasn't really a place for him. If he wasn't trailing behind Lucifer like a lost puppy, he wasn't doing much of anything besides hiding behind a face mask and trying to cough discreetly.

So when Lucifer told him to go ahead to the planned location without him, Sandalphon was immediately adverse to the idea, pushing aside how his own cold had subsided.

"What am I supposed to do there? I'm the reason you're like this, so the least I can do is—"

"Listen to my request. Go there in my place, please."

Sandalphon didn't know how much good he'd do, and he wanted to point out that any staffer could inform the rest about Lucifer's condition, but it was hard to deny a sick person their whims. Especially when it was a sick person Sandalphon was already inclined to give in to.

"Lucifer caught a cold, but he should be better soon."

The director gave him a weird look, stress still knotting his face.

"We've known that since this morning. What I don't know is where the hell his replacement is. I was told he hand picked the model, but no one has showed up and we're an hour behind schedule."

Sandalphon felt sorry for the poor soul that has to fill Lucifer's shoes. The term in itself was a contradiction; there was no replacement on earth that would do Lucifer justice.

He was just about to leave, his errand finished, when a another man stalked over into their conversation.

His gait oozed the lazy confidence of any top tier model Sandalphon had ever witnessed, and he thought for sure this guy was Lucifer's stand in. Good for them, the show could go on, and he could leave. If it wasn't Lucifer, he had no reason to watch this shoot.

"I can't believe our fated first time is being interrupted for such a tacky reason. Teary eyed and bleary from sickness could be a concept in itself, couldn't it?" The callous, dismissive tone was enough to set Sandalphon off, but the underlying perversion seeping into the guy's words almost made him shiver in disgust. He'd never found a human being so distasteful so quickly. Turning to go, to his displeasure Sandalphon could still hear him mouthing off.

"He's left me with some nobody called Sandalphon." The man clicked his tongue. "The name doesn't even roll off the tongue, how could he ever hope to take Lucifer's place?"

Sandalphon froze.

"What did you say?"

Lucifer's own words echoed in his head.

_Go there in my place, please._

Lucifer hadn't been talking about running an errand. He meant to literally take his place and be the main model.

"Didn't you hear me, little virgin?" Sandalphon colored, and the dark haired man looked mildly intrigued. "I've never seen you before. Who're you?"

Sandalphon didn't want to say. He wanted to curse at Lucifer, lecture him about how this— _this!_ —was what he meant about communication and consideration for his commoner status. He couldn't expect Sandalphon to suddenly take his place with no clear warning.

Jaw tight, Sandalphon pushed by both of the men and growled just in earshot, "Lucifer's hand picked replacement."

**Author's Note:**

> I told myself this would be a oneshot but then I got tired and now it's multi-chaptered. Belial makes his debut next one if all goes according to plan, but who rly knows... I promise he's coming.
> 
> Take that as you will.
> 
> EDIT: idk why this is showing up for chapter two but uhh??? Okay ao3 mb it's just my phone acting up cries ill check again when I have a computer 
> 
> Also u can follow me on twitter [here !!](http://twitter.com/nomuraaru)


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